Meeting
by Hola-Meg-a-Cola
Summary: Slight[HouseCuddy]. Greg House was certainly a man that no one could forget, to say the least. Even after twenty years, Lisa Cuddy still remembers her first encounter with the man, not that it was very hard to forget…


**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. If I did, then life would be good.  
**Author's Notes**: God, I wrote this fic about a year and a half ago on my LiveJournal, but never got around to posting in here.Well, now I am! This was my first "House" fic! I decided to take a break from my other fandoms, since there was a lot of drama going down. It's a flashback fic, since I felt that not only is House/Cuddy painfully canon, but since they attended the same college together, I felt that was excellent area to explore them. Also, I made House a little less miserable here. Although it's been said he's pretty much always been a miserable asshole, I feel that he was more of a 'care-free' asshole in his college days.  
**Feedback**: It's very much appreciated. I also appreciate constructive criticism, considering it's my first "House" fic.

xXx

  
  
Greg House was certainly a man that no one could forget, to say the least. Even after twenty years, Lisa Cuddy still remembers her first encounter with the man, not that it was very hard to forget…

It was only the first few months into her first semester at the University of Michigan and Cuddy was already disheartened. One of her professors had assigned a very lengthy essay little over a month ago, a task that Cuddy threw herself into; she had spent almost every waking moment on the essay, most of her time spent at the library surrounded by stacks of books pertaining to the subject. When all was said and done, she had proof read, spellchecked, and footnoted her entire paper- an applauding feat considering she did it all by hand- and was swollen with pride.

That particular day was cast in a cloud of failure as Cuddy received the essay she slaved over back; she was sure her jaw had unhinged itself when she saw the grade. Her professor had given her a '3.0,' or a simple B-. Most college students would kill for that sort of grade in their first semester with a grueling professor like hers, but Lisa Cuddy was different. She was a perfectionist, and this troubled her terribly. How could she have gotten a 'B-' after all the time and effort she put into it?

She asked the very same question to her professor after class, desperate to correct whatever flaws she made for future reference. His answer was nonchalant, explaining that while it was good, it could have been better. Biting her lip, she thanked him and walked quickly out of the classroom.

Outside, Cuddy sat on the lawns of the Central Campus, staring blankly at the 'disaster' that was her paper. She had worked so hard, editing her sentences to keep the reader interested and trying her best to make the topic seem appealing and yet, it could have been better?

Cuddy was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she barely heard someone comment her from behind, "Sulking isn't a very attractive feature."

Her eyes left her paper and she turned around when she saw a young man a few years older than herself lounging on the ledge behind her, seemingly engrossed with the book in his hands. He wore a fading gray t-shirt and normal jeans, his feet clad in old black sneakers. His hair was short and unkempt, and his face showed signs of an approaching five o'clock shadow. Even in his slacking position she could tell he was a tall man; his build, though not bulky in any sense, indicated that he had played sports in the past for a course of several years.

Regaining her posture, Cuddy replied hastily, "I was _not_ sulking." The young man nodded, a small 'ah' escaping from him, and turned the page of his book. "And what would you classify 'glaring-at-a-report' as?" He asked in a sarcastic manner.

They had only been speaking to each other for a minute and already she was incredibly annoyed with him. Still, she kept a cool manner, desperate not to look like a mindless freshman. "I was analyzing my mistakes, that's all."

The young man tilted his book down and looked back at her, his vibrant blue eyes catching her off-guard, and seemed to take the moment to gather his thoughts. "It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that your essay- which I bet you could probably kill a man with if you threw it hard enough- was B- material?"

Automatically, she pressed her essay into her lap, her hands sliding over the 'B-' written in red marker. Cuddy almost had it with the intolerably nosy stranger when she flashbacked to the library. On several occasions, while she was taking a break, she had heard other students gossiping about a transferred med student who was a sarcastic as he was brilliant, and this young man certainly fit the criteria. They went on to say that while he could diagnose a man in less than five minutes, he was an incredible asshole. But what was his name again? It was something common along the lines of Hughes, Henry-

"Are you House?" She asked abruptly. This seemed to hold his interest as he slowly lowered his book again, willing to take any opportunity to pause. "I might be," He replied slowly, "who wants to know?" Cuddy shrugged, adding, "I've heard rumors about you all around campus; you have quite the reputation…"

The young man, now revealed as House, lowered his book and grasped his hand at his heart. "A reputation? Oh, no! Now none of the boys will take me to prom!" He mocked, tugging at his shirt. Cuddy bit back a laugh. "I'm sure they'll accept you if you get Davy Jones to come."

House ended his melodramatic performance by raising an eyebrow. "A _Brady Bunch_ reference?" He started, as if insulted. "I'm sure you could do better than that." Cuddy pursed her lips; _she_ thought her comeback was clever. She looked back at House, who was intently reading his book again.

"Just what exactly are you reading?" She asked, grabbing his paperback book out of his hands before he could have a chance to respond. Cuddy gazed upon the title and blinked.

It was not what she expected a genius med student would read.

She looked back at House, her own blue eyes wide and surprised. "_Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret_?" Cuddy managed to utter. House glared, taking back his book while managed to keep his marked place. Resting back into his slacked position, he quoted, "'I must, I must, increase my bust!'"

As much as she tried, Cuddy couldn't hold back a smile at the line. House held the book, something else grabbing his attention. He leaned over towards her, surprising her, and tugged her essay from her lap. The color drained from her face; the idea of the Brilliant House reading her less-than-stellar essay was not a thought she was entertained by.

There was silence between the two as House leafed through it, skimming through the pages. Finally, he closed it, remarking, "Not bad- for an undergrad. You could have included more details. I would've given you a C, but that's just me. So what if you forget a few details that may factor in whether you've diagnosed a patient correctly? It's not like, say, their _life_ is on the line- oh wait!"

His sentiment wasn't very encouraging, making Cuddy only feel worse. House noticed her fallen expression and twisted his mouth, scratching his head. "What professor do you have for this class?" He asked, tossing back her essay. She ran her fingers through her long hair, her fingers playing with her brown curls. "Martin," She replied, not sure where he was going with this.

House sighed, raising his book again. "First of all," he began, "Martin is a pompous asshole who thinks that he's the best damned thing to happen to medicine since Pasteur." Cuddy wasn't sure how to respond; Professor Martin was a very well-respected man on campus, known for his articles being published in important medical journals, and this was the first real criticism she heard about him.

She was saved from replying, however, as House continued, "He's very old-fashioned in his ways, which usually controls his judgment. I could give you some advice on how to gain a little more respect from him which might help how he grades you, but I don't think you'll like it…"

This caught Cuddy's attention. She didn't know how he would know all this, given it was his first semester on campus as well, but he obviously knew something she didn't. "Tell me," she demanded, interested. House hissed through his teeth. "Are you sure? I'm not sure you'll appreciate it…" He teased, creating an air of suspense. She nodded. "I'm quite sure."

House paused for a moment, then muttered, "Alright…" and leaned over to Cuddy, his face several inches from hers. This action alone would have made her a bit uncomfortable, until his fingers grasped the blouse line of her shirt, which revealed a considerable amount of cleavage, and tugged it upward, covering her exposed bosom line. He then moved away, resting back and continued reading his book.

Cuddy was left flabbergasted, unable to keep her thoughts together. When she finally returned to her normal state, she ripped House's book away. "Hey!" He protested slightly, but it fell on deaf ears. Clutching the book, she smacked at his head several times as he poorly attempted to block her attacks. She threw his book back, fixing her blouse and stood, prepared herself to leave.

"What I meant by that was that Martin is a chauvinistic pig," He explained, pausing her from leaving. "If you ever read his articles, he's always shooting down female doctors and if you wear those kinds of shirts to his class, he probably thinks you're a whore, so I suggest hiding 'the twins.'"

However, Cuddy was still perturbed, snapping at House, "Leave my breasts alone and pray for your own, Margaret!" 

House blinked. "Not bad," he admitted, "I knew you had it in you." He glanced at the watch on his wrist and closed his book, sitting up. "As much fun as this has been, I must leave you."

House stood, proving he was an opposing figure as he stood several inches taller than her. She looked up to him, staring at him as he did the same. He smirked, commenting, "I'm sure you haven't heard the last of me, Cuddy." Cuddy opened her mouth, stuttering, "How-how did you-" before he pointed to her essay, her name clearly printed on the front.

He prepared to step around her before he looked down to her bosom. "And I'm sure this won't be the last I'll see you two," he spoke to 'them', causing Cuddy to cover her cleavage with her hand. She swore House gave her a wicked grin and walked away, leaving her frustrated, annoyed, and slightly self conscious.

But he was right; it certainly wasn't the last she heard of him. Nor was it the last time she received admiration from him about her cleavage.

******

xXx

**

_Fin._

**xXx**


End file.
